


Im Himmel Gibt's Kein Bier

by supernaturallylost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, basically dean is still closeted but as he drinks more, did that make any sense?, german drinking song was the inspiration, he gets more loose with Cas, it's just drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas go to a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Im Himmel Gibt's Kein Bier

Dean scans the waitress’s body when she turns away to grab a notepad and a pen. She’s shapely, with just the right dip in her lower back to suggest dimples above her ass. She’s got very wide hips, full thighs, and skinny jeans that accent her overall shape. When she turns back to him, his eyes are looking directly in hers as he smiles smolderingly.

“What can I get for you, hon?” she asks flirtingly, basking in his stare.

Her eyes quickly glance down at his black shirt, where it’s just barely catching on his muscular chest before running loose over his stomach while he leans over the table.

“How about a beer, for starters, Heather,” Dean grins.

“You got it,” she blushes. She keeps her calm while turning to Dean’s friend. “And for you, sweetie?”

“He’ll also have a beer,” Dean interrupts, seeing the blank stare from Cas’s blue eyes. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back,” she smiles. When she walks away, Dean leans inconspicuously to watch her hips sway.

“Wow,” he whispers to himself. Then, to Cas, he says, “Anyway, what’re you up to lately?”

 

The night goes on with some more casual flirting between Dean and Heather, but gradually, the atmosphere changes into something completely different.  All of the sudden, Dean is leaning in and looking at Cas like he hasn’t seen him before. He’s interrupting Cas’s stories to tell him how dark his hair is or how bright his eyes are. Dean isn’t even aware of the waitress bringing more beers because all he can see is the halo of tavern light above Cas’s head.

“So we got out of there,” Cas finishes his story awkwardly, brushing his hair away from his ears and eyes. Dean stares at his hand as it moves until it’s placed calmly on the side of a chilled beer bottle. “Obviously, he hates it when I tell that story.”

“You’re pretty, Cas,” Dean says like it’s a question. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes are squinting, and he’s leaning just slightly so he can see Cas better. “You’re really pretty.”

Cas blushes with a shrug.

“Thank you,” he answers uncertainly. Then Dean’s hand reaches across the table, waiting. “What do you want, Dean?”

“You’re just so,” Dean struggles. Eventually, he finds the proper word: “Beautiful.”

“You’re drunk,” Cas sighs.

“Gotta get over the draining fear and exhaustion of hunting somehow,” he winks.

“So, Dean,” Cas raises an eyebrow, “how’s that going? The hunting, I mean. How’re you doing?”

“How do you think, angel?” Dean answers with another swig of his beer. “Hunting’s not a life people willingly choose.”

“But it has to be done,” Cas finishes Dean’s thought. Dean nods, to which Cas responds, “But why does it have to be you? Why do you have to do this?”

“Because I know how,” Dean answers. “I know how, and I’m good at it. I’m good at a lot of things.”

Cas waits a moment for Dean to wink, to grin, or to somehow get across an innuendo. Instead, Dean seems calm and collected. Finally, Cas responds.

“I know you are, Dean,” he whispers.

“You are too,” he almost shouts back. His words were just barely slurred, with a little bit too much space between them. “You’re good at a lot of things, Cas. You save me.”

“Yes, I saved you,” Cas nods.

“No,” Dean shouts earnestly. He shakes his head, reaches out, and puts a hand on Cas’s. “Present tense. You save me.”

Cas squints.

“When I’m rough,” Dean manages expressively, “you smooth the world out for me. When I’m down, you sit down with me.”

“I don’t recall having sat with you recently,” Cas frowns.

“Not liberally,” Dean misspeaks. “Figuratively.”

Cas thinks it through and nods when he understands.

“When I’m lost,” Dean continues, now running his thumb over Cas’s wrist, “you find me. No matter what, I know you’re there, saving me a little bit every day.”

Cas’s mouth opens slightly.

“It’s better than heaven, being with you,” Dean says, his vision blurry from a sudden swell of tears. He takes a long drink of his beer and then laughs to himself. “Besides, im himmel gibt’s kein bier!”

Dean snorts and begins to sing an old German drinking song that he’d learned somewhere in New Ulm, Minnesota. Castiel listens, translating in his head. Much to his amusement, the song seems to be saying that there was no beer in heaven, so we should drink all that we can while we’re on Earth. By the end of the song, Dean is no longer coherent.

Castiel sighs affectionately before bringing Dean safely home.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the drinking song on youtube (it's German): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_eAGM65zZA


End file.
